I'm not afraid of you.

I've had the most fantasmic weekend. I have done so many fun things that have included so many fun outfits, fun conversations, fun people, and sweet sounds. My weekend was fun.

It started Friday morning when Isabelle and I sat on her porch while it rained smoking joint after joint.  Her porch had a nice roof that kept us dry and warm. It was this perfect cocoon where we got to watch what was happening around us and yet not be effected by it. The rain poured and we just blew smoke out and talked for hours about everything and nothing at the same time. Sometimes we would just lay there on her porch, our legs sprawled out, our stomachs facing the heavens in complete silence while we took drags. Then we'd start giggling and roll toward each other and just spit out our words talking as fast as we could. It was a great morning.

The next great event that took place this weekend was set on the ascetically pleasing backdrop of alice in wonderland. My friends threw a party in honor of Lewis Carrol. They decorated their apartment with paper machet mushrooms and trees, and they designed a doorway so that it looked like an actual rabbit hole. In order to get into the room you literally had to crawl. Hookahs were set up everywhere. Everyone sat on cushions and drank strong beverages that were poured from different tea pots. We all wore costumes:)

And lastly, I went to a show and tell party where everyone took turns presenting the group of people with something interesting. some sang songs. some played the violin. others called their mom and had her talk to the group via speaker phone. it was really interesting. and i found so many new talented people. next time they have another show and tell, i am going to work up the courage to read a story (that is if i can get writing again. my formative writing skillz have gone down the toilet).

Childhood

zomg. in the midst of my insomnia, I came across youtube videos of my FAVORITE kid shows when I was little. GOD, they brought back so many memories. For a second, I felt like I was 6 sitting in a bean bag chair, eating my mom's homemade mac-n-cheese for lunch all over again.

I honest to God watched this show every single day. It was part of my routine. I'd go to Kindergarten and then come home, eat lunch, and watch this.

i so bored

So, I can't sleep right now. It's 4:30 in the morning and I'm still awake. Sometimes I'm almost embarrassed by how little I sleep.

Anyway, I saw some other bloggers posting really interesting lists of what they believe in and, well, I'm going to take their lead.

I believe in the power of hope.

I believe that each one of us truly has the power to take hold of life.

I believe in forgiveness.

I believe in second chances.

I believe in starting new chapters when the time is right.

I believe in looking back.

I believe that language has the power to change the world.

I believe in doing things for yourself and not other people.

I believe in friendship.

I believe in blowing off steam at your local gay bar by jamming the night away on the dance floor with your friends.

I believe in the recreational use of marijuana.

I believe in the power of sex.

I believe that everyone is exactly the same, no matter how famous we are, or how lame, or how smart, or how dumb, we are all just ordinary people (thanks Liz<3).

I believe that blogging my thoughts away is very fun.

I believe in the necessity of justice.

I believe in gay marriage.

I believe in a woman's right to choose.

I believe in pharmaceuticals.

I believe in a good night's rest.

I believe that magic surrounds us all.

I believe that evil surrounds us all too.

I believe in choices.

I believe in things like Chicken Soup and gargling with salt water.

I believe in therapy.

I believe in the necessity of cutting some people out of your life.

I believe in my teachers, fellow classmates, and anyone trying to make a difference in the classroom.

I believe that doing hw is more important than getting drunk.

I believe that getting drunk is fun.

I believe in doing what works for you, no matter how many people tell you it's stupid, pointless, etc.

I believe in saying "Fuck You" sometimes.

I believe in God.

I believe in eating lunch outside on nice days and playing in the sun or snow with Liz.

I believe in a lot of things. And I believe that's okay.

Zomg. Listen for a chuckle.

Lately, I've been wanting to speak in pictures.

I love this...

Temple Grandin

Let's just call these people my friends.

So, uh, I take back what I said about the police. I only hate a small part of the police department. The detective whom I talked to a couple days after the douche bag rent-a-cop was really nice and really concerned about the investigation, showing me that she truly cared about the outcome and was willing to do what it took to make things happen. I mean, I wouldn't quite call her an Olivia Bennson or an Elliot Stabler, but she was down and knew what the fuck she was talking about. I don't really care if he goes to jail or not. I just want someone with a uniform to stick up for me by banging on his door and letting him know what he did wasn't okay.

I figure my grandfather either A. had no idea how consequential molesting me was or B. just doesn't give a fuck. So, having an officer let him know that it's against the law for a reason feels good enough for me. And I know that once the cops come knocking at his door and asking around, people will stop being stupid and will stop letting their children near him. And that's all I care about: the safety of others and justice for myself and the other countless victims.

But honestly, I'm tired of talking about all this. Between the daily heart-to-hearts I have with my parents, sisters, and friends, and the once a week sessions with my counselors, I feel like I'm talked out once again.

So, instead I will talk about a great movie I watched this weekend. It stars my favorite lady Mia Farrow and Dustin Hoffman. It's called "John and Mary" and it illustrates the dynamic of a one night stand. You can watch a clip for yourself via Youtube.

This weekend was kind of boring to be quite honest. Boring and yet entirely fruitful. I did all of my hw for the whole week. All of my friends went out of town, so, I just hung out in my room drinking beer and completing assignments one by one. I did have a little bit of fun though. I went to my favorite gay bar with a girlfriend of mine on Friday night. We just danced off the stresses of the previous week. The only awkward part was running into my "friend" Matt. I met him last Halloween at a party. There I was at some house show all dressed up in 1940s clothing and he popped out of no where and started flirting with me. I really liked the attention he gave me, because in all honesty I really found him attractive. He was older and artistic and had this incredibly subtle sense of humor that always caught me off guard. We spent the whole night sipping on a joint and talking on a hammock. We flirted non stop until my ride was about to leave. I asked him if he wanted to exchange phone numbers and that was when he broke the bad news to me. He said he had a girlfriend. I tried my best not to look shocked or hurt, just because I'm one of those immature people who never likes to let someone know they've hurt her feelings. So, I just kinda blew it off. But before I started walking away he told me that they were on the rocks. He promised to call me if things with her didn't work out. I just rolled my eyes and walked away. I figured it was his loss. But then I saw them at the wave that night dancing together and looking very happy and NOT on the rocks. We talked for a second. We did the phony, "Hi, how are you?" type stuff that lasted all of two minutes and did nothing as far as revealing how we truly were. I felt resentful. But after realizing that it's probably better this way since i have so much stuff going on in my life right now, I moved on quickly. And my mind came back to just dancing and having a good time.

FUCK THE POLICE!

ksjdhvidjnvckjdscnikjasdn. So, not that you expected this after my last post, but I went forward and reported my Grandfather to the police.

This sense of certainty hit me today while I was smoking outside. I realized that it's not my job to protect my Grandmother. It's simply a moral responsibility. And sometimes when you have too many responsibilities, you have to prioritize them, putting the most important on top. And I realized, by staying with him, she put the responsibility she had for me on the bottom. So, why should I decide to put her on the top. And besides, I can't protect her from everything. She decided to stay married to a fucking pedophile... having the police knock on your door is the price of that.

I'm sorry she married him. I'm sorry she found out so late. I'm sorry all of this happened to her. But yeah know what, we have to be grown ups now. We can't change what happened. We can only react to it. And she hasn't reacted well. And now, she'll have to feel consequences of that.

But that is neither here nor there at this moment, because what I really want to talk about is how fucking stupid and tactless and socially retarded the fucking police were. First of all, I had to drive an hour away from my home to where the crime actually occurred to report it. Then I had to wait a whole HOUR to speak to an officer (might I add that I called ahead of time). Then they send me some fucking trainee who doesn't know how to spell Kimberly. THEN, this officer is joined by a douchebag colleague who proceeds to interrogate me about details of the incident in a fucking waiting room in front of a bunch of people. I had to say in front of all these attentive and curious ears that my grandfather penetrated my vagina with his fingers. In response to that statement, the dbag officer #2 says all aggressively, "Okay, well, then why didn't you report him?" I was actually prepared for this question, because I know police are supposed to be skeptical. So, I replied by saying, "Because I was 7 and I was afraid." I thought my response would make him feel like the ahole he was being, but NO. He replies by looking at me like "Yeah, well, nothing we can do now." As if that's not bad enough. Right before I leave, he goes all cockily "So, how much alcohol have you consumed tonight?" WTFFFFFFF. I hadn't had anything whatsoever to drink. And so, I just stared at him in complete shock and told him the truth a couple times over in case he was too dumb to get it the first time. And he was like, "Well, you're eyes are red and glassy and you seem disoriented" and apparently, according to him, I smelled like alcohol. There are a million more probable reasons for why my eyes were red and my behavior disoriented. And as far as the smell... he's absolutely nuts. I have no idea what could have made him smell alcohol on me... According to him a detective will call me before the end of the week... 5 bucks says they blow my accusation off and eat a doughnut.

Now, I know why people hate cops and nobody reports crimes.

Meet Liz.

Liz has very quickly become one of my closest friends. And what I like most about Liz is that she's not one of those phase friends who you grow out of quickly. She's sticking around. She's quite possibly as weird and as nerdy as I am. I knew Liz and I would hit it off when we compared who's leg hair was longer with pride. She won. She has the hairiest legs I've ever seen on a girl. And the coolest part is... she likes it like that.

Everything should be okay.

I haven't made up my mind yet about pressing charges against my Grandpa. My cousins are interested in it... I DO want justice. I DO want to see him be held accountable for the horrible things he did to us. I want him to know that what he did was wrong. I want to confront him and let him know that he stole my innocence and robbed me of a childhood. But I don't know if him going to jail will accomplish that. I know, a bunch of people would probably slap me across the face for not having him put away when I had the chance. But the thing is that sending him to jail would mean ruining my Grandma's life. She already said if people found out how sick he was, she'd move far far far away and live alone. She's so close to death. I can't turn her life upside down at the very end. I know I'm supposed to think about only me in this. My mom told me to forget about everyone else and just think about what will make me feel better. And the thing is... I am thinking about what would make me feel better, because my Grandmother's feelings are intertwined with my own. To say that her happiness isn't a big part of my own would be a lie. You don't understand. This woman sat me, the black sheep of the family, on her lap everyday when I was little. And she'd tell me fun stories. And she always said that one day I'd do something really special. She told me that a little birdie told her that. And I believed her. She was the greatest Grandmother any kid could ask for. She made delicious rice pudding and let me try on her lipstick when no one was looking. Yeah, she's recently betrayed me in the most horrible ways, but I can't act like everything she did before now is meaningless. 


Right now, I feel like I'm holding a loaded gun. Just waiting for the moment when I know whether to pull the trigger or not. I feel like I'm choosing between myself and my Grandmother. 


I'm running out of time. i need to make a decision soon. 


All of this is very bad and stressful, but it's also relieving to put it on the table and to let everyone know what happened to me. It's like every time I talk about it, a little weight is lifted from my chest. 


I've been going to counseling once a week at some Women's place. It's for like rape victims and shit. I like the counselor a lot. She's sassy and smart and really warm hearted. I like being in her office and sitting on her couch and talking about all of the horrible agonizing shit he put me through. We talk about that stuff and then we deal with it together. She says I have PTSD. eh, I don't know if that's true. But it would explain a lot. She's been helping me move on. The only thing I don't like about that place is being in the cramped waiting room. It's like there I am, sitting in a college sweatshirt and jeans, next to a woman dressed in a business suit, who's sitting next to a little oriental gal in a work out suit. The three of us just sit there, flipping through magazines, sighing occasionally about the weather, trying to act like we're not wondering whether the other person was raped or molested too. It's the most awkward thing ever.  


The counseling is worth it though. I've never felt so on track in my life before. It's like there I was six months ago, kneeling over some random guys coffee table, snorting painkillers, acting like I cared about whatever that guy of the week's thoughts were. I'd sleep with them, not because the sex felt good (quite the opposite actually), but because something happened. And I know it sounds really stupid, but the attention felt so good. I can't explain it.  So, there I was... this smart girl wasting all of her potential on partying, doing drugs, and having sex. 


But ever since I started doing counseling, I've stayed sober. And I haven't slept around since new year's. I've been doing other things. better things like finding true friends to replace the old ones. I've been doing volunteer work. I've been keeping myself busy in the most Mother-approved ways. And that actually makes me feel really good. 

Did I just write a bunch of stuff about not being able to write anything?

There are still a million things I should be writing about. I should write about the fact that I might have to take part in a procedure that has the possibility of sending my own grandfather to jail. I should write about how haunting the image of my grandmother crying out of devastation is. I should write about the guilt. I should write about how I found this awesome Women's Center near campus filled with effective counselors that will be helping me recover. I should write about my goals for recovery. I should write about my best friends abandoning me when I needed them most and how I'm now left to make new friendships from scratch. I should write about the resentment. I should also write about how much I have enjoyed reaching new levels of friendship with Jenny and Liz. And I should write about how lucky and glad I am that I was able to make such good friends so quickly after losing the old ones, especially now during this crazy series of events. I should write about a lot of things. But I won't and it's not because of that bull shit excuse I used in my last post. It's because I don't want to deal with it yet. I'm not strong enough for the reflection. I'm still exhausted from the mere acknowledgement of all these things. And I don't want the weight of the conclusionary thoughts. So, I won't write about it. For me writing is a way to deal with things. So, yeah. I'm staying away for the time being.

So, I haven't posted anything lately. And that's not because I haven't had anything to write about. It's actually because I have EVERYTHING to write about. A million things have happened. I just haven't made sense of it enough to put it to paper. I will soon though. I just can't right now. But I will give you little blurbs of updates.

*I lost all of my lifelong best friends recently. We've been on the rocks for awhile apparently. I didn't know. And now they don't want anything to do with me. I was really upset for a little bit, but I've learned a lot from this experience. And I've actually made some new amazing close friends that I will talk about more later.

*My grandfather, the one I told you about, well dramatic stuff has happened.

* no more drugs. no more breakdowns

*I met a nice boy.

*I am happy.

I've been thinking lately. And I've come to the conclusion that my life is changing constantly and yet there are still some parts that are exactly the same. It's like all my hopes, dreams, and feelings are staying the same, and they're just orbiting around the ever changing planet that I am. Sometimes I can't always see them, just like we can't always see the moon or sun, but I always know that they'll return and that they're out there floating among the stars and celestial spectacles that is life.

I feel like my life is so complicated and yet I feel like that's a good thing. I feel like my world is becoming more and more adventurous. It's like i'm on this inquisition to figure out myself and to civilize what's left of me. I want to create an empire within myself.

Alright, enough metaphors and similes for now.

zomg. I want to see this so much it's a little unbearable.

The night starts here.

I had a great night. No, I had a great day! It started at, ugh, 7:30 am for my American Lit. class and then consisted of my drooling from boredom over this ridiculously dense, unbearably complicated, and fucking confusing article about the origins of rhetoric in Athens and the different systems through which Plato and Aristotle accessed them. It was all "if a+b" shit. But then afterwards I went to my Rhetoric class and it was amazing. It was SO surprising. My teacher just brought the subject to life in the most colorful and enchanting ways. She made everything so interesting. All I want to do now is homework for that class. But seeing as I have a finite amount, I had to figure out something else to do after I finished it. And I decided to go hang out with friends. And it was so great! Liz and Jenny and I just layed on Jenny's huge bean bag in her room and laughed about stupid stuff. There was no pressure. It was just chill and I love that. And then after that Corey and Tyler and I just had the most riveting and absorbing heart to heart for like three hours. We just sat and talked about EVERYTHING. I mean all the way from politics to personal tragedies. It was one of those conversations. We were all so in it. It was great. And if I wasn't so tired I'd create an elaborate portrait of words to illustrate the events. But I have class at 8 am tomorrow. So, I'm going to opt for sleep instead. I just had to put that out there.

I dreamed I was dying; as I so often do

And when I awoke I was sure it was true

I ran to the window; threw my head to the sky

And said whoever is up there,please don't let me die

But I can't live forever,I can't always be

One day I'll be sand on a beach by a sea

The pages keep turning, I'll mark off each day with a cross

And I'll laugh about all that we've lost

What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you . . . sicken and die of them, still in silence? Perhaps for some of you here today, I am the face of one of your fears. Because I am a woman, because I am Black, because I am a lesbian, because I am myself—a black woman warrior poet doing my work—come to ask you, are you doing yours?

Audre Lorde

“The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action”

I wake up in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath, and I get real high, and I say "HEY what's going on?"

And I try, oh my God, do I try

I try all the time,

In this institution.

And I pray, oh my God, do I pray

I pray every single day

For a revolution.

So, if you've been reading my blog you know I like to party and have a good time. Well, lately I've been taking that good time a little too far and i've been stretching it thin over my eyes like a worn and torn veil. I've been drinking excessively... about every other night i'm leaning over the toilet. And I've been waking and baking everyday for the past two weeks. I've been smoking weed about 4 times a day. And not only that, but... I've been snorting things like focalin and pain killers on a more frequent basis. For awhile I thought this was all okay. I thought I was invincible... But then something happened. something that changed me forever. it was one of those events that people include in their memoir, or think of briefly right before they walk toward the light on their death bed. I tripped completely for the first time. And I can say easily without giving it much thought that it was the most horrific experience of my entire life. Maybe it's because I am crazy. I don't know why that particular hallucinogenic fucked me over so badly. And honestly I don't even want to think about it. I mean, I felt purely haunted by the experience for the next two days. I even debated seriously in my head whether I wanted to write about it. I was so afraid that writing about it would bring back the memories and make me relive it. But I'm going to tell you what happened, because I think that you guys should know what is possible if you take those drugs. It's not always fine and fucking dandy. Sometimes it's ridiculous and damaging and life altering.

I knew about 15 minutes after digesting it that I wasn't going to like the trip. My body started feeling really unusual and out of my control. I felt twitches up and down my legs and arms and back, and at the same time my body felt incredibly heavy, so, with each move I felt like I was losing strength. And then my vision began to change. I didn't just see the person sitting across from me. I saw a blurred and highlighted version. But then my mind started feeling distorted. Suddenly this person sitting across from me started to scare me for reasons unbeknowst to me. His heavy eyelids and glazed over stare started to scare me. "What do you see?" he asked me softly. And I just flipped out, because his whole appearance scared me so much. I was so scared of how little control I had that I couldn't believe he was actually enjoying it. And suddenly I thought he was some representative for the devil. So, I started to cry, and when he moved forward to comfort me I snapped. Because who wants a representative of the devil comforting them? So, I told him in the midst of

spiraling psychosis not to come near me. I was shaking and rocking back and forth, or atleast I thought I was. And then I started screaming at him. I said, "Just get the fuck out of my house." And I know he must have seen the insanity in my eyes because he bolted. And then I somehow managed to make it to my room. I turned the lights off and shook in bed, crying, sobbing, praying for it all to be over. My body felt so different and foreign and I just wanted to scratch my skin off. And then it occured to me that i might be experiencing some drug induced form of schizophrenia. I read book about that once. And it definitely seemed to be quite similar experiences. And so I started hypervenulating as voices and colors and images of clowns and harlequins soared in and out of my head, coming in through my ears and being transported out everytime I exhaled. It was like I had no control over anything. It was like I didn't exist. I had no connection to rationale. And I realized, laying in there in the darkness, cheeks all sticky and wet from crying, that I wanted my Mom and Dad. I didn't care how much trouble i'd be in. I just wanted them. I knew with them around I could be safe. So, I woke them up at 3am and they rushed into the car and drove an hour and a half from their home to pick me up. My dad stayed on the phone with me the whole time, trying to calm me down. He told me afterwards that he was so scared. He said the things I said and the eerieness of all the images I described was so out of the norm that he though I should go to the hospital. And then I told him that if I had a gun, I would shoot myself just to get the drug out of my system.Next thing I knew my parents had me in the car and were arguing about whether to take me to a hospital. I declined the invitation. I went home and after sitting in that hell for what seemed like forever, I finally drifted unknowingly to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt sane. And so fucking relieved that I was still alive, with my sanity intact. I also felt incredibly lucky. If it wasn't for my parents getting me and keeping me safe, I might not be here right now. I might've killed myself or been arrested or wound up running hysterically down the streets of Norfolk.

And so, I decided... No more drugs. I'm calling uncle. I'm saying when. I've had enough. I've learned my lesson.

I'm not quite sure why I treat myself the way I do. I'm incredibly self-destructive. It's not that I hate myself. I think it's that I want someone to save me. I don't know. But I know enough is enough. And it's time I tried taking care of myself.

Happy New Years... A rant

So, it's a new year. A new decade. And I still feel like the same old dark and twisted girl I was in 2009. and 2008. and possibly 2007. And yet, my life seems to have become irrevocably different. This past year I've changed almost everything about my lifestyle and managed to change almost nothing about myself. I drink a lot now. I smoke a lot of weed. I do a lot of drugs. Read less. Eh, write way more. Study less. Party more. I seem to function in a new way in an old world. I lost my virginity. It seems like that more than anything changed the way I saw things.

I thought losing my innocence would unveil some truth to life. As if, my nievity would subside and I'd be able to confront a land, a type of life, that shielded me from true happiness. I don't know. It sounds so stupid and dramatic, but that's what I thought would happen. In actuality, I ran smack dab into the old life. The same old shit. I just walked into it like a sliding glass door. And it woke me up. It made me realize things are exactly what they are. There's no secret to life. There's no real mystery. It is what it is. Life's hard. grab a helmet. And try to have as much fun as you can before you die.

Anyway, I can only hope that things will start to change for me in this coming year. I'm taking new classes. Hopefully, I'll meet new people. more interesting people. Maybe a guy... hell, maybe a girl... that'll help me to finally see the beauty around me. And maybe help me see the beauty in me too. Idk. All I can really focus on is doing the best  I can with what I've got. The rest is out of my hands.